ORLANDO, Fla. — The first thing I did upon meeting Blake Griffin for lunch Monday was to offer the Paper Weight a maximum extension on behalf of my Paper Clips.

Yes, I’m aware the NBA’s most identifiable flying object isn’t eligible to sign such a deal until after his third (next) season.

Still, there’s no harm in letting Griffin know how desirable team owner Donald Sterling finds him these days — home attendance is 17,245, up 8 percent, telecast ratings on Prime Ticket are up 82 percent, the biggest league increase other than Miami and road attendance is 17,155, up 6 percent.

If I’m James Dolan, whose pockets are Captain Kangaroo-sized, while the Paper Clips are in town tonight (talk about a tough ticket!) I offer Blake’s father a job (Look, commissioner, no cap restraints!) as Knicks coach, general manager and president.

Throughout our two-hour conversation, I kept telling Blake I was a non-commissioned reporter, but he kept calling me “sir” anyway. That’s how he was parented by Tommy and Gail Griffin, growing up 15 minutes from downtown Oklahoma City, and that is who he is today, five weeks shy of his 22nd birthday (March 16).

A friend of a friend, who lives on the same block in Manhattan Beach where Blake owns a summer home, says he always is accommodating to kids for autographs.

His specialties include insane athleticism, earthquake finishes, busting out of the pack off a rebound and pushing it like Magic and LeBron, left-shoulder jump hooks, a Kiki Vandeweghe-long-quick-step-stretch-and-dunk-with-either-hand stuff, and a HIQ. His 15-foot Tim Duncan-like banker is on the precipice of precision.

Blake considers himself very lucky to have learned the game “at a different level” from his father, who played at Northeastern and Northwestern Oklahoma before becoming a coach. Blake and his oldest brother, Taylor, played four years for him at the Oklahoma Christian School, and were home schooled by Gail. Naturally, their basketball education began long before that.

“We’d sit and watch games on TV but it wasn’t like a father and a son just talking,” Blake said. “You know, ‘Whoa, did you see that play or that move!’ It was, ‘Did you see what he did to get his teammate open?’ Or, ‘Did you seen how he got open?’ My father taught me how to become multi-dimensional, to be more than just a scorer, rebounder and passer. He taught me how to make teammates better.”

Tommy Griffin also “home-schooled” Blake in the value of hard work. Needing extra money, his dad went partners in a trophy company that he’s only now selling.

“I worked from the time I was about 6,” Blake said.

The material would come in a 6-foot column. His dad would cut it on a table saw. Taylor would clean it off on one side of the bench. Blake would bag it on the other side.

“It brings back horrible memories,” Blake groaned.

Blake did that all through high school. And, as he got older, he even got paid a little bit. Looking back on it, though, “I’m glad to have done it. I saw other kids get whatever they wanted in high school from their parents and never appreciate it. I have that experience. I had a responsibility to help my family. But, no question about it, I had no choice.”

***

THERE are horrible memories, and then there are horrible memories.

At 9:02, April 19, 1995, Blake, 7, and his mom were sitting on their kitchen table. Taylor, 9 the day before, was in the garage throwing out the trash, when a loud bang shattered America’s serenity.

“I remember it so vividly,” Blake said. “We thought something fell in the garage. My brother came in and said, ‘What was that?’ We said, ‘What do you mean, what was that?’ ”

About 10 minutes later they learned the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building had been blown up, killing 168 workers and children, an act perpetrated by Timothy McVeigh and Terry Nichols. A couple days later, Gail Griffin drove her sons by the demolished building on the way to the Salvation Army’s relief effort. They boxed food all day.

“I think about it all the time,” Blake said. “I think about the crying and the anger and the chaos and the horror. And I think about how everyone responded positively and gave a helping hand.”

Each year prior to the late June draft, the NBA imports players projected to be selected in the two rounds and tests them physically and psychologically.

I asked Blake if he had been told, as I was by a GM, that he had been assessed “compulsive?” Before he answered, I softened the obvious revelation, judging by his look, by adding, “Of course, who attains greatness that isn’t compulsive?”

“I guess it’s not surprising,” he said. “I’ve been called a perfectionist. But it’s weird, I don’t see myself as a perfectionist. But now that it has been brought to my attention, some friends see me doing something … like, I’ll straighten the blanket if I see the ends don’t match up.

“I’m not OCD or anything like that! It probably comes from hearing my dad always say, ‘If you’re going to do it, do it right.’ As in, do it the perfect way, I guess. I really wasn’t like that as a kid. I’d clean my room when my mom asked, but I’d kick things under the bed.

“Actually, I make my bed every day now, and when my mom comes to visit she can’t believe how clean my room is and how nice the house looks. This is all too weird.”

***

YOU haven’t heard anything yet. Blake, who grew up wanting to be a Green Beret and read everything he could get on the Special Forces following the Oklahoma City bombing, knows about white glove inspections, hospital corners, gig lines and spit-shined boots and where they belong in front of a soldier’s cot. Clearly, he would make an excellent Army recruit.

“I can’t leave a hotel room without emptying the trash basket and making the bed,” Blake confessed. “And when I check into the room, I arrange my stuff the same way every time. I’m not superstitious, but I’m definitely into a routine. I take the little waters [glommed from the charter] and line ‘em up on the bureau. I put my headphones in a certain spot, my charger by the phone, the key card by the TV, fold my clothes and hang up the ones I’m going to wear that night.

“God, I really am compulsive! It’s hitting me right now!”

Drafted first overall in 2009, Blake suffered a left kneecap stress fracture in the eighth exhibition game after missing the first. Despite the 82-game setback, and comparisons to Greg Oden, he returned as physically daring, challenging and confrontational as before. Then there’s his inestimable mental toughness.

“Blake is the same in practice as he is in games, initiating contact, diving for loose balls, whatever,” coach Vinny Del Negro said. “I tell him to take it easy, but he won’t. That’s his gift.”

“That’s what got me here. I’m not going to stop now. I’m going to take it to another level,” Blake said. “That level isn’t to jump higher or do this or that. I keep working on developing my game. The more I do that, the more compact it will become and the less I’ll have to rely on my athleticism. Instead of pumping and going to the hoop, I’ll be able to catch and shoot. Perfecting my shot will open up more options. Next time the guy rotating to me won’t know if I’m going to shoot or drive … then I’ll dunk on him.”

Blake’s rehab was “torture.” He wasn’t “deeply depressed,” but it killed him not to play or contribute in “wins, losses and practices.” After going through the bonding of training camp, he was on the outside looking in and did not feel part of the team. Then there was the unrelenting, unconstructive criticism.

“I’d focus on the process of coming back, but I heard what people said … that I ‘was a bust … the Clippers messed up again … the guy can’t play.’ I heard it and couldn’t do anything about it. Nobody cares what you’re going through. Now those same people aren’t saying anything.

“I love negative motivation. I love it when people say I can’t do this or I can’t do that. I love that. I almost need that. Friends send me articles and I don’t want to read the positive ones. I want to read the ones that say I can’t do something.

“In high school I was supposed to be just a big guy who took advantage of smaller players. People predicted I wouldn’t be successful in college because I supposedly wasn’t really a basketball player, just athletic. I came into the NBA and I wasn’t supposed to be able to jump over athletic players my own size.

“I’ve been working real hard on my outside shot. Then I hear people say, ‘I didn’t know he could shoot. I didn’t know he could dribble. I didn’t know he could pass.’ These so-called experts always find something negative in young players’ games.

“What they miss, what they can’t see, what they can’t measure is what’s in a person’s mind, what’s in his core, what induces him to work hard, to be a better player. Nobody knows that so how can you make judgments on kids? That bothers me so much. That’s what drives me.”

***

MAYBE I need to mock his free throw shooting — 60.7 percent, including a dismal 22-for-45 in the past five going into last night’s Magic game. Maybe he needs to be compared inauspiciously with Wilt, Shaq, Dwight Howard, Duncan and Kim Hughes? You don’t suppose his former coach was responsible for his hitch in his delivery?

“I do feel conspicuous on the line, standing alone up there,” Blake admitted. “We keep charts in practice and I shoot between 80-84 percent. But games are different. I’m now starting to follow through without stopping at the top.

“But you might be right; I’ll take whatever [negative comments] you got.”

Not since Duncan in ’98 has a rookie been chosen by the coaches as an All-Star reserve. Blake’s rewarding selection on the strength of 22.9 points, 12.7 rebounds, 3.6 assists and his full speed, straight-ahead, fearless attitude ends that streak.

All the work is paying off appreciably, and Blake is up front about being proud of his individual accomplishments. Eradicating the continued ridicule of the Clippers is his next challenge.

They already have taken a giant step by winning nine straight at home, the longest streak since the franchise moved from San Diego to L.A. in 1984.

“We haven’t achieved anything as a team, but I’ve accepted the challenge to change people’s perception and improve our record, particularly on the road,” Blake said. “I want to be part of it. I’m not going to shy away from it. We just need everyone on board. We need Eric [Gordon] healthy. I feel bad about that.”

***

CONSIDERING Blake’s overwhelming success, I asked him if he felt bad his brother isn’t doing equally well? Taylor plays for Belgacom Liege, Belgium, after being waived by the Suns’ new management regime last summer, following a rookie year of sporadic and brief appearances.

“The only reason I don’t want to feel bad for him is because he wouldn’t want me to feel bad for him. I know he’s perfectly capable. He’s just as athletic. This is very hard for me to talk about,” Blake said, noticeably choking up.

“I owe him so much for where I am. He was a huge influence. Everything he did I wanted to do. He was always showing me stuff. I annoyed him a lot. I always wanted to be in his room, see what he was doing. I saw how much he dedicated himself to basketball. Every day he’d work out, lift, shoot and play pickup games. In my mind, I said, ‘This is what I have to do.’

“People talk about what I’ve done and not about him. He was my best teammate, He was my core. He’s the best person I know. He does the right thing, works hard and studies hard. He’s a smart guy who made himself smarter. He is the biggest reason for my success, yet he goes unnoticed and unmentioned. It bothers me a lot.”